Whiplash
by Wolf Brigade
Summary: 'They're almost brushing shoulders, and Elsa swears she can feel the warmth Anna is radiating, like she's her own personal sun that smells like flowers and everything good in the world. It's horribly distracting and Elsa kind of wants to push her up against one of the lockers and make out with her like a goddamn teenager.' Elsanna teachers au.


**A/N:** This is a gift for fellow writer **rareID** , check their stories out! Cover image belongs to tumblr user Constable-Frozen.

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"Anna Holloway is looking fine as hell today," Hans says, voice low.

His eyes are trained on the woman in question, who's using her lunch hour to grade as many English tests as she can. She's cute when she's under a deadline, the tip of her pink tongue peeking out from between those full lips. Her free hand keeps mussing her hair and it's a good thing it's out of its usual braids today; soft auburn tendrils are free to fall past her shoulders, and the way the light keeps hitting them is really—

Next to him, Elsa swallows hard and looks down at her food. "She's not completely hopeless looking," is all she says, not wanting to come off as _that_ desperate.

Hans laughs quietly. "Please, you've been aching for her since the first day of school. Not that I blame you, she does know how to wear a pencil skirt."

"You're such a pig!" Elsa retorts, shoving at him. He just laughs again, this time catching the attention of the others in the teacher's lounge, Anna included. She glances over at them, an eyebrow raised questioningly, before returning to her work.

Elsa settles further into her seat, pretending to focus on her lunch and not Hans' words. But dammit, it's true: no one can pull off a pencil skirt like Miss Holloway can, and it's been taking a toll on the entire student body. The nurse had diagnosed fifteen separate cases of whiplash on the first day Anna wore one of her sinfully tight skirts. Elsa doesn't believe that could be mere coincidence.

Resisting the urge to bury her head in her hands, Elsa finishes her meal with what little dignity remains. Gathering her things, she stands, intent on finding some solace in her classroom before the lunch bell rings. She lightly slaps Hans on the shoulder as a goodbye and heads towards the door.

"Miss Wolff!" a voice calls out, making Elsa pause. She turns and sees Anna waving at her in greeting. Elsa ventures closer to her, curious. She's never had much more than a passing conversation with Anna and this is the first time she's ever called her out by name.

"Please, call me Elsa," she replies out of reflex. Though she would be the biggest liar on the planet if she said she hadn't thought about how Anna's voice would wrap around those syllables— _Miss Wolff_ —when she's kissing Anna's neck and groping at that shapely bottom.

 _Dear god_ does she need to get laid, this level of sexual frustration must be unheard of.

Yanking herself back to reality, Elsa comes to find Anna staring at her expectantly, a sunny smile on her face. "I'm sorry," Elsa says politely, despite wanting to die of embarrassment, "could you repeat that?"

Anna's smile falls off her face. "Oh no, _I'm_ sorry! Sometimes I talk too fast when I'm nervous and people can't understand me, which makes me even more nervous. Umm," she pauses to take a breath, "I was wondering if you could help me carry these tests back to my classroom. I managed to get them all here by myself, but it was a real struggle."

Elsa nods before she can think better of it, still caught on the first words Anna spoke. _Do I make her nervous?_ She knows for a fact that she makes her students nervous, what with her no-nonsense demeanor and strict grading policies. Even the other faculty members—Hans excluded—tended to keep their distance from her.

According to Hans, this is because she's 'the most awkward hot person on the planet'. Sure, she's enjoyed the occasional one night stand when she's in need of it, and she knows she's conventionally attractive. That doesn't mean she's _good_ with people. Not in the way Anna seems to be; she's easily the most well-liked teacher in the school and it's not just because of those pencil skirts.

Anna beams at Elsa's silent agreement to help, pushing a few tests into her hands. "I just finished these since there was a Gray's Anatomy marathon on this weekend, and I didn't leave my couch for like, eight hours. Has that ever happened to you?"

As Anna opens the door to the teacher's lounge, Elsa looks towards Hans out of reflex. He grins when they catch eyes, and makes a subtle, obscene gesture with his hand and tongue. " _No_ ," Elsa growls under her breath, shooting daggers at him.

Anna stutters in her step. "Oh. I guess that's a newbie mistake, then. You don't seem like someone who would get distracted by a TV show. I bet you grade everything the moment your students turn it in."

Shit, her comment was directed at Hans, not Anna. Now she's made the woman feel bad. "I meant 'no' that hasn't happened with Gray's Anatomy," Elsa hastily corrects herself. "There was a Battlestar Galactica marathon on last month and I'm pretty sure I had bedsores from how long I was laying down."

She winces slightly as soon as the words leave her mouth. _Battlestar Galactica_ and _bedsores_ don't exactly scream sexy.

But Anna laughs, the sound bright and happy. As they make their way up the stairs, she says, "I never would have taken you for a sci-fi fan. For some reason, you seem like someone who'd enjoy a night at the opera or at some fancy restaurant."

Elsa suppresses a smile at that; Anna could not be more wrong. She spent most of her nights with her cat and Netflix, or occasionally getting a beer and checking out women with Hans. She doesn't want to say any of that, so she peers down at the tests in her hands. "'The Price of Salt'?" she murmurs, raising her eyebrows at a few of the questions.

"That was our book for the month," Anna replies, stepping closer to Elsa in order to see what she's looking at. They're almost brushing shoulders, and Elsa swears she can feel the warmth Anna is radiating, like she's her own personal sun that smells like flowers and everything good in the world. It's horribly distracting and Elsa kind of wants to push her up against one of the lockers and make out with her like a goddamn teenager.

"...the book was a real pain to get past the PTA, I'll tell you that much," Anna is saying, and it's as close to grumbling as Elsa's ever seen from her.

"Why was that?" she asks, wondering what was so controversial about the book.

They stop in front of Anna's room while she fishes through her purse for the door key. "To put it simply, it's about two women in the 1950s who fall in love with each other," she answers, balancing a pile of tests precariously in one hand and unlocking the door with the other. "I wanted to open a dialogue with my students about discrimination and social issues, and thought the book would be perfect. They seemed to enjoy it, if their test grades are any indication."

"Two women…" Elsa echoes, lost in thought. It's certainly encouraging that Anna would fight to teach the book in class. Encouraging indeed…

Anna ushers her into the darkened classroom. "Yeah, and it's sort of personally relevant to me because—" she sets down the papers on her desk and turns to face Elsa, hair flaring around her shoulders at the action, "because I'm also a...a woman...who likes women." Those brilliant teal eyes widen. "I m-mean, not women in general, just certain ones! Nice, pretty, smart ones!"

"I see," Elsa says, suddenly very aware of the fact that they're the only two in this unlit classroom. Anna is looking at her with those big eyes and nervously biting at her lower lip, a lip that Elsa really wants to smush against her own. Fuck, Elsa does not have enough self control for this kind of situation. "You're not alone in that...inclination."

Anna gulps. It's a funny, audible gulp, like what you'd hear in Scooby Doo. It makes Elsa smile, and she can't help but walk a few steps closer to her. Anna backs up until she bumps into her desk and clutches at its edge, unable to do anything but just _stare_ at Elsa.

And damn, Elsa is glad she chose to wear her form-fitting slacks and gray blazer with the rolled up sleeves. She _knows_ she looks good today, and she can see that Anna agrees with her.

She stops when she's only a foot away, leaning forward slightly. The hand still holding the tests reaches past Anna, and she drops the papers on the desk. Scanning Anna's face for any negative reaction and seeing none, she brings her other hand up to rest on the desk as well, effectively pinning Anna in place.

"Miss Wolff," Anna whispers, and seriously? Even her _breath_ is intoxicating, laced with the strawberries she had eaten at lunch. "Are you saying…"

"I'm saying," Elsa murmurs, "I hope I might be one of those 'certain ones' you mentioned."

She's half-wondering if she's having another one of those erotic dreams and is about to wake up bleary-eyed and aroused. She's rarely ever been this smooth in her life and if she was, it was due to alcohol. But she's stone-cold sober now, so it must be Anna. Anna and all these repressed feelings of _want_. And it's a want that's more than just pencil skirts and hair and lips.

It's the way Anna is nearly always last to leave the building because she's tutoring after hours at no charge. It's the way she lights up whenever she sees her students in the hall, and takes the time to talk to them about their lives. It's how she always smiles, even when it's clear she's tired or stressed, because she doesn't want to upset anyone.

Anna moves slightly, lifting her hand just enough so it's gently wrapped around one of Elsa's wrists. "You definitely are," she says, words mumbled and aimed somewhere between their feet. "Have been since—"

Elsa moves even closer, pushing one of her legs in between Anna's, leaning even further in so their breasts are touching, separated only by a few thin pieces of clothing. Anna's breath hitches, and Elsa suppresses a groan at how the action makes Anna's chest heave against her own.

Anna releases her hold on Elsa's wrist, moving instead to clutch at the back of Elsa's blazer. Elsa arches into the touch, breath intermingling with Anna's. She's so close, and Anna is so beautiful. If she can just—

Anna pulls Elsa towards her, crashing their lips together. It's wet and messy, but neither of them care. Elsa finally, _finally_ touches Anna, grabbing at her pert bottom like her life depends on it. The rounded flesh feels just as amazing as she had imagined, and she brings her other hand up to skim across Anna's ribs, gently cupping her through her shirt.

She can feel Anna playing with her hair, almost standing on her tiptoes to better reach Elsa's lips. She kisses like she talks—earnestly, and with the occasional small, cute stumble. It unexpectedly makes Elsa's chest feel warm, and she deepens the kiss, sliding her tongue between Anna's lips.

Anna whimpers at the sensation, her hold on Elsa's hair becoming almost painfully tight. Anna breaks the kiss momentarily, hopping onto her desk and yanking at the lapels of Elsa's jacket to draw them back together.

Her new position allows Anna the perfect view of Elsa's neck, and she shamelessly it uses to her advantage. She licks down the side of her throat before sucking on the skin just above her collarbone, careful not to leave any marks. A girlish moan escapes Elsa at the action, but she can't bring herself to care.

Shit, this is undoubtedly Elsa's top fantasy—doing _this_ on Anna's desk, papers splayed out underneath Anna as they move together. This is _amazing_ , is what it is.

Then the fucking bell rings.

They jump apart, panting. Anna looks so deliciously disheveled—her hair is wild, eyes hooded, and her lips wet and swollen—that Elsa wants to just keep kissing her, no matter who comes in.

She closes her eyes, taking steadying breaths until the urge passes. When she opens her eyes, Anna is straightening her shirt and smoothing down her skirt. She stares at the scattered papers on her desk for a moment before quickly stacking them into one large, teetering pile.

"So that..." Elsa starts, because she feels the need to say something, "that happened."

 _Smooth, real smooth._

Anna glances up at her, smiling faintly. "Yes, it did. But I need to get ready for class now."

The dismissal stings, makes Elsa go cold inside. "Right, well. Me too." Not that she cares about AP Euro right now. It's just...she thought Anna would be acting a bit different; maybe invite her over for a cuddle session or a netflix marathon, and possibly think of baby names and wedding vows together if they had time.

But apparently Elsa was over thinking their potential future together. She sighs, straightening her own clothes, trying and failing to put on a smile as she leaves.

"Oh, one more thing," Anna calls out before she can step over the threshold. It's embarrassing how quickly Elsa turns around, and for a moment she feels like she's in danger of sustaining a neck injury.

Anna's first few students start to filter into the classroom, causing Elsa to stiffen. Now that their privacy was lost, what could Anna possibly want to say to her?

Unperturbed by their new company, Anna keeps her eyes on Elsa. A mischievous smile spreads across her face. "See me after class, Miss Wolff."

Elsa wants to collapse in relief, but she has a reputation to uphold around the kids. She straightens instead, giving Anna a curt nod. "Of course, Miss Holloway." She allows a small smile to break through her veneer before turning on her heel and taking her leave.

As she walks down the hall, she can't keep that smile off her face, and people are starting to stare. When she finally makes it to her own class (two minutes late because she was daydreaming and accidentally went to the gymnasium instead), she even greets her class with a wave and a small chuckle.

Because when it comes to Anna Holloway, she has something much more serious than whiplash.


End file.
